


Common Ground, Act I

by UrsulaCousland



Series: Common Ground [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaCousland/pseuds/UrsulaCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and they still found they had much in common. An interpretation of the story of Dragon Age II as experienced by Aniya Hawke and Co. Some likely canon divergence/head canon and slow burn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VERY early info regarding the future Champion of Kirkwall. I realized very recently (in World of Thedas vol. 2) that there is a canon Hawke intro, and I had guessed at elements of it, but this version is key to later events so I'm keeping it canon-divergent.

 

> _“Is it fate, or chance? I can never decide…” – Flemeth, Witch of the Wilds_

_\--Kirkwall Harbor, approximately 9:08 Dragon --_

Malcolm Hawke stared over the stern of the _Drake’s Eye_ as she slowly pulled clear of the Kirkwall harbor. The city looked different from a distance, and he wasn’t sorry to see it growing smaller. He was still exhausted, and not completely convinced that what he had done for the Wardens was the right thing. Still, they’d agreed to obscure his trail from the Kirkwall Chantry, and he had been able to demand an almost ridiculous sum from them, even if they _had_ threatened Leandra when he began to have second thoughts. The situation had terrified his new wife and brought the baby early, he’d found to his dismay when he returned to Kirkwall. _Barely wed and barely born, and already both were in danger._ He sighed, then smiled and shook off the dark turn his thoughts were starting to take when he heard his wife’s light footsteps behind him and his daughter’s muted fussing as the morning sun woke her.

“Here, Leandra. Let me take her for a while. I need to get to know her anyway.” He smiled at her and held out his arms for the tiny newborn. He turned her face from the direct sun, and her fussing turned to cooing before she dozed off again. Leandra wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. She sighed contentedly and then quietly told him, “I’m going to go get some sleep while she cooperates. She’s been wearing me out.”

Malcolm nodded, shifted the bundle to the crook of his arm, and wrapped one arm around his wife for a quick squeeze before she went below deck. He watched her go, remembering why he’d risked what he had, and why they were leaving Kirkwall, and decided that regrets were foolish. He was madly in love with his wife, she returned that love, their firstborn daughter was healthy and strong, and he was free of a Circle he’d begun to fear. Life was definitely good at the moment, and it was easy to believe that the future was bright.

He carefully shifted his daughter into both of his arms again, and found himself looking into small eyes that were already beginning to change from their newborn blue. He realized with a start that not only was her infant hair already showing signs of being auburn like his, but her eyes were going to be brown, as well. “You’re going to favor me, aren’t you, Aniya?” he asked her quietly, partially around the lump in his throat. Aniya Hawke smiled a gummy baby smile at him, and, as he held her close, reached out and touched his face for the first time.

Malcolm wasn’t sure if his next thought was a prayer, or his whispered hopes for her. Whatever it was, he’d never meant anything so sincerely in his life.

“Please just don’t favor me in magic. _Please.”_

 


	2. The First Cut (is the Deepest)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also, why things started to blow up, rather literally, around Hawke.

**_Ferelden, Near Lothering._** **_9:27 Dragon_ **

Lieutenant Karlson sighed.  The boy who had slid off the dusty, thin nag and saluted couldn’t be over fifteen. He had respectfully asked where to find Aniya Hawke, and said he was her brother. The boy stood stoically as Karlson dispatched his aide to find her, but his eyes were red and his face was pale.

 The lieutenant didn’t have any trouble bringing the scout to mind. Hawke was good; for all she had joined as green as new grass, she was tough, smart, determined, and most importantly, ambitious.  Extensive arms training had done wonders for the girl; she was a fast learner and took to daggers and close combat like a fish to water. She was a miserable shot, though, but that should improve with more training.

  _Unless…_

 The girl’s family _could_ call her home, if there was sufficient hardship; the law was clear. He didn’t want to lose her; she’d already declined a position as a sapper once, but the duty was a dangerous one, and he needed soldiers both willing to do the job and smart enough not to die doing it. The sound of running feet on well-packed camp dirt drew him from his thoughts as Scout Hawke slid to a stop and saluted him.

 “Sir? You sent for me?” She looked at him, and then saw her brother – and her face fell.

 “At ease, Hawke. The lad says he has a message for you.”

 When Hawke’s face went red and her hands started to shake, Karlson walked away to let her have some privacy and to pen the leave papers. He could guess what that letter said; he’d seen too many other youngsters under his command get those for it to be anything else.

 

* * *

 

 Bethany came downstairs and found Carver staring angrily out the window. She followed her twin’s gaze but didn’t see anyone outside.

 “The Bitch just left.” Carver snapped, as if he read her thoughts.

 “Don’t be a prat, Carver. I heard you start into her before the door slammed.”  He flushed an angry red and scowled at her. Bethany glared back at him and cut him off as he opened his mouth to retort. “Shut it. And keep an ear out for Mother, will you? I dosed her again, but she should be waking up soon.And _don’t_ _you dare_ take your feelings out on _her_. It’s bad enough you did it to Aniya. She’s got her own problems and doesn’t need yours too!” With that, Bethany snatched up her staff and a waterskin and left. She barely remembered to catch the door before it slammed a second time.

 Fortunately, the dew was fresh and Bethany could see her sister’s tracks through it.  She found Aniya at the edge of the farm’s small orchard.  She was sitting on one of the large boulders that marked the boundary of their land with her head on her hands.  As Bethany approached, she saw that her sister’s face was wet with tears.

 “I love him, but Carver’s still an ass. Forget it.” She said softly, as she put her hand on Aniya’s shoulder. At her touch, Aniya buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook. Bethany put her staff down and rubbed her sister’s shoulders gently; she murmured reassurances that were more soothing because of her voice than what she actually said. She knew perfectly well that her older sister was devastated and struggling not to show it; when she was back with the army, she’d have no choice.

 Aniya finally sat up, took a few deep breaths, and rubbed her eyes. Her face was red, but she looked relieved. Bethany offered her the waterskin; she took a drink and poured some of the water into one hand to wash her face. They sat together in silence for a few moments.

 “He thinks I’m a heartless bitch because I managed to stay in control during the pyre, and because I have to go today.” Aniya took a shuddery breath and continued. “I really don’t want to leave so soon, Beth, but I have to. I only have enough leave to attend the service and get back. I can’t afford to get discharged now, or worse, get accused of desertion. _We_ can’t afford that.” Bethany suddenly noticed her sister was in uniform, and her pack was next to the boulder. “I just wanted to wait until Mother woke before I left. Then Carver decided to lay into me, and I couldn’t take it. I’d have just have said things I’ll regret later.” Her face fell and her eyes filled with tears again.

 Bethany let Aniya get some semblance of control back before she spoke again.

 “He loves you very much, and he looks up to you. You know that.” Bethany sighed. “He’s not a bad person, just very conflicted. He feels like he got forgotten about when it was obvious I was a mage and you and Father were always close. He feels like he’s stuck here, and that no one values him for _him_ , and he hates it.”

 “I know, but I can’t get him into the army until he’s at least seventeen. They won’t take him, and I can’t risk lying to get him in. At least then, he’ll get a chance to stand on his own or at least take it out on someone else.”  Aniya considered a moment, and then her expression hardened with resolve. “My commander has been trying to get me to train as a sapper for a while now. I think I’ll take him up on it.”

Bethany frowned. “What’s that involve?”

“Well, among other things, it involves training in ‘strategic disasters’, and ‘disposing’ of enemy officers. It’s not considered strictly honorable work, and it’s dangerous, but it’s turned tides of battle numerous times –“

“WHAT?! You’re mad! Mother will kill you when she finds out! Or she’ll die of fright!” Bethany’s shout made her sister wince.

“That’s why you aren’t going to tell her, or anyone else for that matter.” Aniya fixed her with a stern look. “The reason I’m going to do it is _because_ it’s dangerous. The pay’s double what I get now as a scout because they can’t get many people to risk doing it. I don’t think we can afford for me pass that up, at least until Carver can get his ass recruited.”

Bethany threw her arms around Aniya then and tried not to start crying herself. She nearly knocked the other woman off the stone. “Just be careful. We don’t want to hold another pyre anytime soon!”

“I will. I promise.” Aniya hugged her back, and her tone was deadly serious. Then, her expression softened. “I bet Mother’s awake by now. I should probably go say goodbye and get going.” She picked up her pack and passed Bethany her staff.

The two sisters walked back to the farmhouse in affectionate silence.

 


	3. Ink and Mabari, Prelude to a Blight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the origin of Hawke's facial tattoos, and her Mabari. The Battle of Ostagar.

_Southern Ferelden, near the Ruins of Ostagar_

_9:29 Dragon_

 

“I know I don’t need to remind you of the importance of your charges and your unit, Corporal Hawke.  This is a post of great responsibility, and if you weren’t worthy, I wouldn’t have recommended you to replace Victor.”

 “Thank you, Sir!” Aniya said crisply, still at attention. The promotion had been a surprise, but among the sappers, this wasn’t uncommon given the danger of the job.

 “At ease, Hawke. That’s enough formality for now.” Lieutenant Carlson chuckled at his newly promoted protégée.   “Well done, by the way. I think that’s the fastest anyone’s gone from the runt to the boss.”

 Hawke’s cheeks pinked a bit – even though she was a veteran of several years now.  Carlson waved his hand at her.

 “Dismissed. Your unit’s already been told, by the way. Just don’t let them get too hung over.”

 Before she left, Aniya smiled at her commanding officer and laughed.

 “Don’t forget, Sir, I know where about a half a dozen ah…” she paused and cleared her throat significantly, “’discouraging’ herbs grow around here. If I have to lace the kegs, I will.” With that, she saluted smartly and left, closing the tent flap behind her.

 Carlson actually laughed out loud. The girl – full-fledged soldier, now – was not only charismatic enough to command respect, but subtle enough to use her skills to maintain order. It was why he’d pressed so hard to have her promoted.

 

* * *

 

“Aniya! Er…” Carver squinted at the new sigil on Aniya’s armor, “Excuse me, _Corporal_ Hawke, “ he laughed, “You’re late.” He had come to join the celebration in her unit. Aniya was well liked, so there was considerable enthusiasm in their congratulations and celebration.

 Aniya peered at her brother before relaxing into a smile.

 “The tattoo artists will still be there, Carver. I can’t see why the lot of you are in such a rush to get all kinds of crude images permanently inked into your skin.” She rolled her eyes.

  _If you’re going to do that, do it with some class, Brother. No naked ladies or mabari or the usual crap for me._

“Oh, come on, you’re not going to chicken out _now_ , are you?” Carver clapped her on the back. Aniya winced, then laughed. Her brother already reeked of a few ales. Since no engagements were expected for a couple of days, anyone planning on engaging in the tradition of getting tattooed before a major battle was probably already drunk or most of the way there.

  _Not me, though. I need to have my wits about me for this. There are good reasons not everyone has facial tattoos. In this army, usually only the sappers are crazy enough to get those, but we have our reasons. And now, I need mine._

 “No, I’m not. I have a very specific idea in mind, and I need it done before the next engagement. I just hope they have assigned a junior healer again.” The last thing any of them needed was a bloodied, infected mess over the new images.

 “No, but they did bring the potions and salves over from where the more junior mages were practicing, so we should have that covered. One of the artists might be like our sister, too.” Carver looked at her significantly.

  _A mage. That’s bold, right under the Circle’s detachment’s nose._   Aniya nodded and handed Carver the mug he’d set down and almost forgotten.

 “Want some, sis?” he said cheerily.

 “No thanks, Carver. I just – “ Aniya shuddered, “- don’t care for ale all that much anymore. You know that.”

 “Fine, your loss.” Carver bolted the rest of it and looked around for a keg.

 

* * *

 

When they reached the series of impromptu lean-tos being used by the various elves and humans who claimed to know the art of tattooing, Carver stumbled on ahead and met up with the rest of the young men who were lining up for their turn under the needle. Aniya shook her head. At this rate, she’d already cut her own team off, but they could handle it. In the King’s army, an unfortunate fact was that the sappers tended to drink to cope. Most of them also had high pain tolerance due to their trade.

  _That’ll happen when you’re working with acids, irritants, poisons, and dusts like we do._ Besides, most of them were pretty thoroughly inked anyway. Only a few were here for new ‘work’.

 Aniya wandered along the row until she found the one actual tent among the artists. She coughed politely outside the tent flap.

 “Come in, come in.” Another female voice spoke from inside the tent. “I’m ready for you.”

 Aniya ducked into the tent and studied the artist as she took her tools out of the fire to cool. The woman was an elf, and she had graceful patterns tattooed into the skin of her bare arms and peeking up from the collar of her ink-stained shirt.

 “Good evening, Moira.” Aniya inclined her head respectfully, still studying the patterns of ink on those arms. That had been what caught her attention – the elf was actually a runner for the officers, and did this as a side source of income. Aniya had stared at her in camp so often that the self-assured older elf had finally confronted her over it. It had worked out amicably, which was why Aniya was here tonight.

 Moira looked up at her with a pair of light green, almost hazel eyes. The grey streaks in her hear marked her age, but her face was still unlined.

 “Good evening, Hawke. What can I do for you? I assume you’re here for the usual pre-war ritual?”

 Aniya laughed.

 “Well, yes and no. I told you that I admired your work,” Aniya gestured over the elf’s arms, “and that’s what interests me. If I’m going to have tattoos, I want them to be different.”

 “Let’s talk, then. What did you have in mind?”

 Aniya took a deep breath.

 “It’s odd.”

 “My dear, you probably haven’t even _seen_ what I consider odd.” Moira rolled her eyes and chuckled. Aniya blushed.

  _Come on, Aniya. You can do this._ “I want something on my face. Something symmetrical that accents the shape of my face and my coloration.”

 Moira sat back on her heels. Then, she reached over to her table and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a stick of charcoal. She also took a small twig from the table and lit a second lantern, providing better light.

 “What sort of pattern did you want?”

 “Well,” Aniya took another deep breath. “I trust your tastes. Can I see what you would do if you were me and had that in mind?”

 Moira clearly hadn’t been expecting that, and she looked flattered. She looked up, then, locking eyes with Aniya. 

 “Hold still. Let me look at you. Straight on at first, then I’ll have you turn.”

 The process went on for at least half a candlemark, as Moira had Aniya turn her face this way and that.  She muttered to herself as she did so, and Aniya caught something about outlining the shapes and taking the Hawke into account. Finally, she surveyed her work, took out a couple of her inks, and lightly colored the design by using her fingertips.  Then, she held it out to Aniya.

 “What do you think?”

 Aniya took the parchment and looked at it. What she saw took her breath away.  The pattern Moira proposed was a series of three graceful, curving, and sweeping lines of a russet color, with slight ‘dustings’ of gold around the edges. The lines would run along the contours of her cheeks. Looking from her nose outward, they curved into a stylized shape that suggested a hawk’s wing.

 “I…yes, that’s _perfect.”_

Moira smiled. Then she turned serious.

 “I think that’s some of my better work, but it will make you very distinctive, especially among humans.  People will know you at a glance, and with these colors, cosmetics won’t cover them very well. Are you certain that’s what you want?”

 “Yes. Actually, that’s the point. I want my squad to be able to recognize me on sight even if I’m goggled and capped, in case we have to change plans very quickly. That happens more often than I’d like. Most of my unit has facial tattoos of some kind. By the way, suggesting my name with the lines,” Aniya ran her fingers over the curves suggesting a bird’s wings, “is a great touch.”

  _That and my vanity really, really likes that idea. I may live to regret that, but…to the void with that. Those are **beautiful**! _ Aniya was enchanted with the idea now. There was no way she wasn’t going to proceed. She nodded at Moira.

 “The other thing is that since this is going onto your face, it will hurt more than many tattoos do. I notice you seem sober,” the elf looked at her pointedly, “Do you want to be so when I do this?”

 Aniya nodded.

 Moira stared at her with respect and motioned for Aniya to lie back on her table, which resembled a healer’s workspace. She lit yet a third lantern, laid out a series of inks and needles, and washed Aniya’s face thoroughly. Then, she let it dry and leaned in.

 “Are you ready?”

 “Yes.”

 “Just try to relax. This will hurt, but I am good at what I do, and I’ll try to make it as quick as I can.”

 Moira was right. It hurt like a _son of a bitch._ Aniya whimpered a couple of times, but managed not to cry out or scream. Her considerable pain tolerance, however, _was_ being sorely tested. Several times, Moira sat back to stretch her arms or survey her handiwork. It took at least two candle marks to complete. When she was done, Moira sat back with a satisfied expression on her face.

 “All right. The ink work is finished, but I see something else I want to do,” the middle-aged elf leaned back, glanced at Aniya, then ran her hands over Aniya’s new tattoos without touching them. Aniya felt a cool tingle on her face.

  _Healing magic! Are you mad, Moira?_

 Moira must have read her thoughts on her face, and nodded.

 “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that to yourself, but I didn’t feel comfortable using salves alone on that. They’ll work fast enough, but I wanted to make sure the skin didn’t get disturbed, which it would have if you’d used them. Facial skin is far more delicate and can’t take that kind of punishment after this.” Moira’s voice was low, pitched for Aniya’s ears only. Aniya answered just as sincerely.

 “My – father was an apostate, Moira. Your secret is safe with me.”

 Moira nodded, and held up a mirror. Before she handed it to Aniya, however, she set it back down.

 “I should warn you that the surrounding skin is still fairly red, but that should subside. What you see now will become a little better defined then, and the gold should stand out a little more.” With that, she passed Aniya the mirror. Aniya took a deep breath and looked into it.

 She barely recognized the exotic creature looking back at her. Where empty expanses of skin had been before, her face was now beautifully lined in color, and it really brought out the good features of her bone structure. The colors worked very well with her dark eyes and red hair; the gold would simply help accent her skin tone and any accents in her hair when she was in full sun.

 They were a declaration and a challenge, not just an identification mark. They said, I know who I am, and I am no one to be trifled with.

 “What do you think?” Moira’s slightly smug expression suggested she already knew.

 “I…that’s _perfect_. I love it! My family will probably hate it, but I’m of age. They can learn to cope.” _I can’t imagine what Mother will say. Who knows. Oh well, It’s too late now!_

 Aniya started to hand the elf the fee they’d agreed upon. Moira went through the coin, selected a small sum, and handed the rest back to her. Aniya gaped, speechless. Moira hugged the shocked woman, stepped back, and spoke in a warm voice.

 “Thank you for letting me do something that isn’t a thrice damned mabari or a naked elf. You have no idea how much I appreciate just getting to do something _I_ think will look good. You might guess I don’t get that opportunity often.”

 Aniya nodded silently. Moira indicated the tent flap gracefully, and with a respectful nod, Aniya departed.

  

* * *

 

****

**_Ostagar._**   ** _9:30 Dragon_**

Aniya’s squad of sappers staggered back into camp later than expected; the Grey Warden recruits that had come out earlier that day had news about how close the Darkspawn were actually getting, so they’d sent out every sapper and saboteur they could summon to lay out a welcome for the spawn.  So far, the campaign had been going well, and her squad had a certain amount to do with that, so they’d gotten set to the hardest task; rigging parts of the ruins to become chokepoints so that, if necessary, they could try to staunch the flow of incoming hostiles or trap them so the archers could more effectively deal with them.

 The Grey Warden that had been sent with them to keep an eye out for Darkspawn was a huge bear of a man, with an amusing, if a bit ribald, sense of humor; far more of one than they’d expected their warden escort to have. In other words, he had fit right in, and he was a great help in moving materiel for them. They spent a great deal of the night rigging parts of the ruins and a couple of bridges at maximum bowshot range, so that they could at least slow down an advancing force. The process had taken far longer than she had expected.  _They don’t build like this anymore._ The old stone buildings in the ruins were extraordinally solid, and they’d had to bypass that stone to find anything that they could blast apart with what they had on hand.

  _Now, let’s just hope they do what the King’s advisors think they will._ And,  _if the King and the Wardens are right and this is really the beginning of a Blight, let’s hope the Archdemon doesn’t show itself. All the explosives in the world won’t help us if that happens._

 She tried not to think of the large numbers of Darkspawn they’d been fighting. True, they’d been victorious so far, but she was starting to have a gut feeling that they were right about the Blight.

 “All right, Boom Rats. Let’s clear off.” She ordered them back to the base camp. “Get some rest if you can. We’ll need it.”

 

* * *

 

“So, are we keeping score again?” Aniya asked Carver as they stood shoulder to shoulder with the vanguard.  Aniya’s mabari was also with them; he was a big brute named Sarge, and he was clearly upset about being off of the front lines.

 “Yes, but you don’t get to count the rat traps.” Carver smirked at her. “That’s cheating.”

 “Bullshit, Carver. Anything that means we win this battle is fair game. Besides, you have an advantage with that thing.” She grinned and nodded at the big two-handed sword that had become Carver’s weapon of choice. Aniya liked the fact that that army life was agreeing with him. He was far more confident, and far less bitter and tense toward her than he had been a few years ago; he was becoming his own man.

 They didn’t have the most glamorous job, but there was a reason. They were stationed near the archers, in part so Aniya could advise them on activating her squad’s handiwork, and in part to make that the archers had time to do theirs.

 Sarge whined, clearly bored. The big mabari had been a thorn in the Houndmaster’s side, mostly because he had been a restless, annoying nuisance. When Carver said he wanted to try to be chosen by the problematic dog, he’d nearly choked on his lunch when Aniya warned him why the mabari was named what he was.

 “It’s because he barks at everyone, has dominance problems, and pisses all over everything,” she’d deadpanned to him in a whisper, and then whacked him on the back as he coughed before he could laugh out loud. Unfortunately for Carver, the mabari had taken a liking to Aniya instead, so now, he was ‘her’ problem and not the Houndmasters’. The thing was, as soon as he’d ‘chosen’ Aniya, he became a model citizen, even an amiable one.

 “Easy, boy. We’ll see action soon enough.” She reached down to scratch him behind the ears. The dog closed his eyes blissfully.

 “Maker, Aniya, he’s not a lap dog!”

 “No, but he understands what we say and I think he appreciates not being yelled at all the time. Uh oh – “she stared over the edge of the wall. “Here comes the King and the Wardens. With all those spawn out there,” she pointed at the massed forms they could see in the moonlight, “it’ll be any time now.”

 “Wow, look at them! I hope the reinforcements that Teyrn Mac Tir has will be enough!” Carver’s eyes bulged a little.

 Aniya nodded grimly. “Yeah. With any luck and the skills of my boom rats, Teyrn Loghain’s forces will be.”

 Carver didn’t hear her next comment; “I just wish we had Teyrn Cousland’s forces as well.”

 

* * *

 

 

The battle was not going well so far; the front lines were in danger of being overwhelmed even despite the successful trapping and demolitions. Darkspawn were even making it up to the archers, and Aniya, Carver, and the rest of the forces arrayed there had their hands full. She was fighting back-to-back with her brother, and Sarge was buying them room to work, but they knew they were in trouble.

 “Those Wardens lighting the beacon had better hurry up!” She told Carver as she slashed down yet another Darkspawn and sidestepped its falling form.

 Almost as soon as she said it, there was a bright flash of light on the top of the Tower of Ishal. 

 “There it is!” Carver yelled triumphantly. A ragged cheer went up as the light spread.

 Within a few moments, however, it was becoming painfully obvious that no reinforcements were coming. Suddenly, an outcry went up among the archers, who had a better vantage point than anyone else on the field. Apparently, the Teyrn had taken his forces and quit the field, rather than joining the battle as he had been supposed to do. Aniya could feel the panic beginning to set in.

 “Shit. If that’s true, Carver, we’ll need to get everyone out of here before we’re all slaughtered. Otherwise, there won’t  _be_  an army to fight the spawn. That line isn’t going to hold. I hope the officers saw that!”

 A sudden, terrible noise echoed through the chokepoint where the King’s own forces and the Wardens were trying to hold their ground.  It sounded like wails of despair, intermingled with the howls of triumphant Darkspawn and the roars of the ogres. The Hawke siblings stared over the wall, transfixed with horror, as the line buckled. One of the ogres had a figure in golden armor clutched in its hand – and then that figure practically exploded in a haze of blood. The front lines disintegrated into chaos and death as countless men and women were slaughtered.

  _“_ Maker preserve us,Carver, that was the _King_ that _thing_ just killed!” She felt the blood drain from her face, and even she began to give in to fear.

  _So this is how it feels when hope fails._

 As Aniya grabbed Carver’s arm and they both stared in horror, bugles began to split the air. They were sounding a retreat, as if the impending rout wasn’t already painfully obvious. How anyone could hear them over the horrible chorus of the Darkspawn was a mystery.

 “Right. Let’s get out of here!” she grabbed Carver’s arm and tried to pull him along with her. “Sarge! Guard!” The mabari fell back with her, after snapping at a Darkspawn that Carver had overborne. Aniya dispatched it with her last throwing knife.

 “But-“ He was still transfixed with horror.

 “ _Now, Carver_! If we die here, we get ourselves killed for nothing!”

 Carver started to say something and then nodded and followed her. They fled together, followed by a horrible din that Aniya would remember in her nightmares for years afterward. They were slowed several times by advance clusters of Darkspawn that had gotten around the main army. Finally, they had gotten clear, it seemed; to the southwest, towards Ostagar, the sounds had begun to fade. They staggered to a stop and both fell to their knees, breathing heavily. A few other stragglers emerged onto the open field with them and stopped too. They were all too stunned and demoralized to do much but try to catch their breath.

 As they started to get their wind back, Aniya had a horrible thought, and she  _knew_  in her gut that it was going to become reality.

 “We have to get to Lothering, Carver. That’s the next place they’ll go. We have to warn the village and get Mother and Bethany out of there! Nothing this far south can stop that horde now!”

 Carver stared at her in horrified disbelief and nodded slowly as her words sank in. Aniya was a veteran of much more action than he was, and as much as he dreaded it, she was probably right.

 Wordlessly, they picked up their weapons again and staggered northward toward home.


	4. Aftermath of Ostagar. Losses.

**Outside Lothering. 9:30 Dragon**

 

_Rumors of the King’s assassination spread north like wildfire, and they managed to outstrip even the Darkspawn horde. As refugees began to arrive at Lothering’s outlying farms and make their way to the village proper, an air of fear settled over the village.  Their accounts were confused and chaotic, but the dominant story was that King Cailan had been betrayed and murdered by the Grey Wardens during the fall of Ostagar. The Chantry was soon full to bursting, as was the Inn, and every bit of spare ground around the village seemed to be claimed by one refugee family or another._

_\--from the collected notes of Varric Tethras_

* * *

Bethany couldn’t believe the number of people streaming into Lothering in the past few days.  There were so many, and many of  _them_  had lost at least one family member in a terrible battle near the Wilds.  Both Leandra and Bethany had been walking on eggshells since the first rumors came in, and as the first days dragged on with no word, they began to fear the worst.  She’d seen a mishmash of armed men drifting towards the village, but they wore the colors and arms of Teyrn Loghain, not of the King’s army.  She shook her head and shifted the full basket she carried from her right hand to her left.

_At least we have something to contribute while we wait and try not to panic,_ the young woman thought darkly. She’d been bringing in what food and medicinal herbs the Hawkes could spare for a couple of days and offering them to the refugees who had no roof over their heads. She gave the Chantry a wide berth, as usual, but honestly, the Templars had their hands full too, so she was probably still in less danger than before.

  _Not a chance I can afford to take, though. If something did happen to…_

Bethany’s eyes stung and her vision blurred. She put down the basket at the closest refugee camp and turned away quickly.

  _Oh, Carver. Aniya. Please …_

Bethany couldn’t even finish the thought. She half-fled back toward the Hawkes’ farm just outside the village and didn’t stop until she was seated on the edge of their orchard. With a start, she realized that she was sitting on the same boulder where Aniya had broken down over their father’s death five years before, and where she’d found her sister and comforted her. 

 Bethany shook with silent sobs, keenly feeling her siblings’ absence.

 

* * *

   Aniya wearily stopped before the final turn to Lothering. They had made horrible time, and she cursed herself for it.  She frowned as she looked over the last bridge.

 “What is it, Aniya?” Carver stopped next to her. They were both filthy, and their armor and clothing worn from the road, but right now, such things weren’t their first priority.

 “There are bodies just outside the village. We’re going to have to cross through there to get home, so let’s hope the ruckus is over.” Aniya closed her eyes wearily. She had precious little energy left for much fighting, and she knew she might not have a chance to fix that anytime soon.

 “Well, we’re not helping anyone standing here,” Carver said, the concern in his voice taking the edge from the words. Aniya nodded silently, and they proceeded toward the skirmish site.

 When they got there, they found the bodies were stiffening, but that whatever, or whomever, killed them had been by recently.  However, the dead men weren’t familiar, and Aniya guessed that they might have been bandits, preying on the civilians fleeing the horde’s advance. 

  _Hmm. Maybe the bloody Templars made themselves useful for once,_  Aniya sneered to herself. 

  _Wait. Those are scorch marks. Whoever did this had a mage with them. Oh well. The Templars are back to being a nuisance._   _Maybe they have someone to chase besides Bethany for once._

At the thought of her younger sister, Aniya felt a surge of fear add urgency to her step. Carver picked up on that, as did Sarge, and the three of them rushed through the village.  As they reached the western edge of the square, shouts went up, and people started running. Aniya and Carver glanced behind them to see a huge cloud of smoke beginning to spread over the southeastern sky…from the road they’d recently passed.

 “Shit! Let’s move, Carver. We may already be too late!” Aniya’s eyes were wide with horror, and her face had gone pale. The rust-colored tattoos on her cheeks stood out against her skin like runes written in blood.

 Carver felt a sudden chill at that sight. He turned and fled toward the farm, pulling from reserves of energy he didn’t know he had. Aniya was hot on his heels.

 The two siblings and their mabari companion raced up the dirt path to their latest home. They were startled to find Bethany at the edge of the farm. She looked up as they approached, squealed with relief, and launched herself into her twin’s arms. He hugged her briefly but tightly.

 “Where’s Mother?” he asked as Bethany threw her arms around Aniya.

 “Back at the house, and she’ll be thrilled…”

Carver turned and dashed toward the house, shouting for their mother.

 

* * *

  “Aniya? What the…”

 “I’m sorry, Beth, there’s no time. We have to get her and get out of here.  _NOW._ ” Aniya pointed toward the smoke cloud that was now visible to the west of Lothering.  Bethany’s face went white. 

“What is that?”

 “The Darkspawn horde that took Ostagar. Come  _on!_ You’ll get to meet them up close and personal if we dawdle!” 

 Bethany whirled and chased Aniya back to the house. They burst through the door that Carver had left standing wide open to find him helping Leandra down the stairs from their bedrooms.  Thinking quickly, Bethany grabbed a large bag, and swept all the meager food they had left into it. Aniya crossed quickly to her mother and hugged her tightly.

 “I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do for now, Mother. We have to get going before the Horde cuts Lothering off completely.”

 “I just need to get…”

 “If you can’t get it in the next couple of breaths, Mother, we have to leave it.”  At Leandra’s stricken look, Aniya winced. She knew her mother was thinking of the last of Malcolm Hawke’s belongings.

  _Oh, Maker. Speaking of which…_  Aniya suddenly dashed up the stairs, and Leandra was right behind her moving as if she hadn’t aged a day past her marriage. 

 As Leandra slipped a couple of tiny items into her bosom or onto her fingers, Aniya glanced desperately through the bookshelf near her old bed. She found what she was looking for, and carefully placed three battered old books into her pack.

  _They’re all I’m going to have left of him, except for the memories._

Aniya felt her throat tighten as she heard her father’s voice reading one of the books to her. Leandra squeezed her arm quietly and gazed at her with concern. She’d apparently seen what Aniya had done.

 Aniya shook her head and scrubbed at her eyes with one hand. She accepted Leandra’s quick hug and returned it gratefully. Then, she gestured with her chin towards the stairs.

 “Let’s go, and hope to flames that we haven’t been cut completely off yet.”

 Unfortunately, it was starting to seem like they _had_ been cut off. Aniya and Carver had assumed that to the northeast was their best chance at escaping, but they encountered a large number of Darkspawn.  Despite Aniya and Carver’s effectiveness in combat, they would have been overwhelmed completely if not for Bethany. Aniya could tell that her younger sister was almost as worried about being forced to use magic out in the open as she was of the Darkspawn.  They were forced to pause for breath, and for healing, and Aniya took the chance to discuss things with her sister as she healed a nasty cut on Aniya’s left hand.

“Bethany,” Aniya said gratefully, “you keep right on doing what you’re doing. If we run into any Templars, they’ll have to come through me.” 

 “And me,” Carver said grimly.

 Bethany nodded, but then her face fell.

 “Where are we going, anyway?” She peered intently at Carver, then at Aniya.  Carver’s exhaustion and nerves got the best of him.

 “Away from the Darkspawn! Where else?”

 Bethany frowned back.

“And then where?”

 Leandra interjected as Aniya tried to assess the path ahead of them.

 “We’ll go to Kirkwall.”

 Aniya stared at her, astounded. So did Carver and Bethany. Sarge looked at them all, confused, and sat down.

 “Are you sure that’s wise?” Aniya said skeptically.

 “There are a  _lot_  of Templars in Kirkwall, Mother.” Bethany added.

“But we have family there, and an estate.” As Leandra explained her reasoning, Aniya’s attention was drawn to rustling on the path ahead that only meant one thing.

 “Let’s sort this out later. Right now, we have more company.”  Aniya drew her blades grimly.  _I won’t be able to keep this up very much longer, and neither will Carver. We haven’t had more than a couple of hours’ rest at a time since Ostagar. I’m not sure how we’ll get out of this to_ try  _to get to Kirkwall, honestly._ She struggled to keep her own doubt off her face and out of mind, for her own sake and that of her family.

She parried the first Darkspawn’s blade and stabbed it through a hole in its patchwork of armor. It went down with a guttural growl that seemed to pass for words among the spawn.  Carver charged one that tried to swing a mace at her as she spun to face it and cut it down in an arc of steel. A fireball flashed between them and two more spawn went up in flames.  They advanced, and suddenly realized that they weren’t the only ones here trying to fight off the Darkspawn.

 Ahead of them, a man in plate armor and a woman in boiled leathers fought back to back and were about to be overrun.  As the man turned to cut down one of the spawn that threatened his companion, Aniya got a good look at his shield and breastplate.  Her heart sank when she made out the Sword of Mercy.

The woman bore no such marks; she wore more standard-issue army gear. Aniya didn’t recognize her.

Suddenly, there was a sound of steel grating along steel as a Hurlock grunt sliced along a gap in the Templar’s armor along his back and shoulders. The man couldn’t suppress a cry of pain and staggered back, dropping his shield.  He could barely lift his sword arm, either. Whether the man was a Templar or not, Aniya couldn’t stop years of trained reflexes and pulled a throwing knife. She never got a chance to actually throw it, because the Templar’s companion tackled the offending Darkspawn and bore it to the ground.

“You shall not have him!”

 She was unarmed; but in the heat of the moment, she landed several devastating punches instead.  She then picked up her own dropped sword and clumsily beheaded the creature. She then scrambled to her feet, took up the Templar’s shield, took her place at his side, and clearly meant to sell her own life dearly to save his. Aniya couldn’t hear what the red-haired warrior said to the Templar, but their body language suggested more than idle companionship.

  _The enemy of my enemy…I can’t believe I’m doing this._

Aniya shouted a battle cry herself and ordered Sarge onto one of the spawn attacking the couple. Bethany started to do  _something_ , but quickly abandoned it when she saw the shield.  Carver joined Aniya, and they fought their way to the embattled couple, meeting in the middle.  When the remainder of the threatening Darkspawn had been dispatched, Aniya turned to the red-haired warrior, and they nodded at each other once. Then, they both turned to check on their respective companions. Aniya overheard the warrior’s words to her Templar companion.

 “Stop squirming, Wesley. You’ll make it worse.”

 She bent to help the Templar to his feet, but before he even had them under himself, he glared at Bethany.

 “Apostate! Keep your distance!”

  _Oh great. Let’s just do the Darkspawn’s work for them._  Aniya stepped between the couple and her sister. Carver had her back; he stepped in behind her. Bethany just sighed.

 “Well, the Maker has a sense of humor. Darkspawn and now a Templar. I thought they all abandoned Lothering.”

 The Templar frowned, clearly ready to continue his ‘duties’.

 “The spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown.” He clearly wanted to pursue that line of thought, but he was suddenly panting, and it was apparent his wound might be getting the best of him.

 “The order dictates…”

 His red-haired companion sighed and looked down as if embarrassed.

 “Wesley…”

 The Templar shook his head and started to advance on Bethany.

 “The order…dictates…”

  _Oh no you don’t._  

Aniya stepped forward to confront him.  Her eyes narrowed, and she casually flexed her shoulders.  Her own unspoken challenge was clear.  

_You will have to go through me first, and I’m uninjured._

 Fortunately, the Templar’s companion spoke again, and he actually appeared to  _hear_  her, this time.

 “Dear, they  _saved_  us. The Maker understands.”

  _I see now. Interesting._ Still, Aniya didn’t back down until the Templar did, and he did so only reluctantly, with the slightest inclination of his head towards the Hawkes.

 “Of…course.”

 “I’m Aveline Vallen. This is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we’re safe from the horde.”

 Aniya gritted her teeth, then inclined her head at Aveline. 

 “I agree. For now, we seem to be on the same side.” She turned her eyes to Ser Wesley and sighed. “How bad is that wound?”

 Wesley sighed.

 “I think my sword arm’s a loss, even with healing.”

 “Then you shall have mine, as always.” Aveline stepped next to him and gave him a surprisingly warm look.

  _Ugh. Please tell me I’ve never sounded that…blech._  Aniya cleared her throat.

“We should keep moving, before they catch up to us.”

 “North is cut off,” Aveline said, before Carver cut her off.

 “Then we’re trapped! The Wilds are to the south; that’s no way out!”

 Aniya shook her head and started to move ahead, walking between Aveline and Wesley. She then turned her head back to her own family.

 “If our choices are south or die, I’ll take my chances with south.”

 Aveline and Carver fell in behind her, but Bethany and the Templar exchanged wary glances before joining them.

 

* * *

  

South might not have been cut off completely, but there was still no shortage of Darkspawn. These seemed more like scouting parties, but they were becoming more numerous. One of them even had some twisted creature that was using some kind of dark magic against them. Ser Wesley was still able to use his powers to disable it somewhat, but Aniya still focused on taking it down before it could work real havoc. The rapidly tiring party made its way onto some higher ground, hoping to survey their surroundings.  They stopped, catching their breaths.

 Suddenly, Aniya felt the ground shift subtly beneath her feet. Aveline looked puzzled, and watched the ground; clearly she’d felt it too. It got less subtle and louder until a very large Darkspawn crested the hill on which they stood. It towered over all of them. It roared a fearsome challenge and looked around for a target.

_Maker, what –_ Aniya followed its gaze and realized, too late, what it saw.

“Mother!”

Carver, who was much closer to Leandra, was much faster to reach. He interposed himself between the ogre and their mother, shouting a challenge. The older Hawke scrambled to close with the thing – there was no way Carver was taking it alone. But she felt like she was trying to run through mud – far slower than she should have been. She watched with horror as the ogre picked Carver up –

_Golden armor lit by lightning, flashing, right before the ogre squeezed the lifeblood out of the king –_

The ogre slung Carver around like Sarge shook old rags. Then, it slammed the man to the ground twice. Then, the ogre flung him away and turned back to the rest of the party. Carver lay where he fell, unmoving- in fact, FAR too still.

“ _Carver, NO!”_

The scream could have come from either Leandra or Hawke, or both. Aniya abandoned subtlety and launched herself at the beast, as Aveline whistled sharply at it and banged her sword on Wesley’s shield. Sarge growled menacingly and latched onto the ogre’s leg. Bethany whirled to face more darkspawn that Aniya barely registered.  As the ogre charged Aveline, Hawke sprinted after it. When it stopped to attack the tall warrior, Aniya launched herself into the air, blades forward, landing squarely on the beast’s back. She buried both blades to the hilts and twisted them.

“Sarge, release! Help Beth!” Aniya shouted at the mabari. The ogre, distracted by her shout, reached to its back and tried to dislodge Hawke. She snarled angrily, pulled one of her blades from the spawn’s shoulder, and slashed viciously at the grasping hand. She followed through by plunging the blade back into the ogre’s spine at the base of its neck. She twisted it savagely with strength she didn’t know she possessed. There was a sickening _pop._ The blade then wedged so tightly she couldn’t dislodge it. As Aveline slammed her shield into the ogre’s gut and stopped it dead in its tracks, Aniya pulled her off-hand blade out of the meat of the creature’s left shoulder and plunged it into the beast’s neck. She gave that blade a final twist and leapt free as the ogre fell. Whether Aniya’s blow or Aveline’s actually finished the creature wasn’t clear, but at least it didn’t get back up again. When the ogre stopped moving, the remaining spawn scattered back the way they came.

_Great, they’ll probably come back with more –_ Aniya’s thoughts were shattered by Leandra’s cry. Her mother ran to where the ogre had thrown Carver’s limp body, and gathered his head into her lap.

“Carver! Wake up! The battle’s over…” Leandra’s voice grew softer as Carver failed to move or respond. The truth sank in, with Aveline’s surprisingly soft voice confirming what they already knew. Aniya’s throat closed as she knelt opposite Leandra, with Bethany joining her.

“Mother, he gave his life to save us – “ Aniya began when she found breath to speak.

“I don’t **want** a hero! I want my son!” Leandra said hotly, glaring at Aniya over Carver’s body. “How could you let him charge off like that?! My little boy!”

Aniya’s heart froze as guilt rushed to the surface of her grief. She couldn’t meet her mother’s fury and sorrow head on. In an effort to keep herself from breaking down, she looked toward the blurring ground. Hawke clenched her hand so hard that the tips of her gauntlets dug painfully into her palm.

_She’s right, I should have been the one guarding her. At least if one of us had to face it head on, it should have been me -_

 It was Bethany who broke that progression of thought.

“We have to go, Mother. Carver wouldn’t want his sacrifice to be meaningless.” Bethany’s own voice broke. Aniya’s instinctive protectiveness of her younger sister, sharpened by fresh grief, drowned out the guilt for now. She regained control of herself while Ser Wesley uttered a brief prayer and Leandra said her final goodbyes. They all turned to leave, when Sarge stiffened and growled in the direction where the ogre had originally come.

“Flames, we’re too late.” Aveline said grimly, drawing her sword.

* * *

  _Hawke says that Flemeth made a dramatic entrance then, saving the party. I didn’t believe what she had to say about this until much later, on the side of Sundermount. Nevertheless, the Witch of the Wilds was good as her word and got them to Gwaren. Teyrn Logain’s capital was hardly disturbed and far from the fighting, and the Hawkes and Aveline were able to secure passage after selling everything but their weapons and the clothes on their backs._

_\--From the notes of Varric Tethras, regarding the Champion of Kirkwall_  


	5. Welcome to Kirkwall...

**_The Waking Sea and Kirkwall_ **

**_9:30 Dragon_ **

 

_You know, if I try really hard, I can almost convince myself I’m used to the stench in here. Or, I could just be deluding myself._

 Aniya looked up from the resting spot that they had managed to carve out among the refugees in the overcrowded hold.  Through the grate in the deck that provided the only ventilation, she could see that the sky had finally cleared. Rapidly moving clouds and the flapping of sails suggested decent winds. It was about time. Disease and heartbreak had claimed a few refugees in the early days, and the toll was slowly rising. The burials of the dead at sea had made more room, but the hold was still overcrowded, hot, and stuffy. Worst of all, it reeked of unwashed bodies, vomit, and other bodily functions. The atmosphere of desperation, which added its own tang, hadn’t set in until the last couple of days, when two rumors began spreading in the hold. The first had been that at least two ships in the refugee fleet had been lost to the terrible spring storms that had rocked the ragtag fleet for the past three days, and the second was that they might be starting to run low on food.

 Aniya and her charges were far better off than most. For one, Aveline, Hawke, and Sarge made an armed and threatening team that people tended to avoid if at all possible. At least, it kept people out of thieving distance. Additionally, Bethany’s discretion and skill in healing had kept the four of them safe from the dysentery and other illnesses that struck with lethal speed once they took root. She hated not being able to help more refugees, but she also feared being seen, so she tried very hard to ignore the suffering around them as best she could.

  _Still, the last of our coin bought this passage, and that’s after we attempted to sell everything we didn’t need._ She knew all of them kept something sentimental; a last memento of their now-abandoned lives. For her, it was a pair of extremely worn books that had been her father’s; they were all she had left of him now, other than her memories. Aveline didn’t let her late husband’s shield out of her sight. Bethany had their father’s staff and an armband that had belonged to him. As for their mother – well, none of them knew, and as long as she still had her pack and nothing got stolen, Aniya didn’t ask.

_I don’t know what we’re going to do when we actually get there, assuming we do. I hope our uncle got Mother’s letter…_

 The stream of her thoughts was interrupted by an unmistakable shout from a deckhand; “Land Ho! Kirkwall right ahead!”

Aniya glanced around; it seemed like at least half of the refugees were already too defeated to care. She tapped Aveline on the shoulder, and muttered, “I’m going topside for a look. I’ll be right back.” She then tapped Sarge on the head gently. The Mabari woke, sat up, and wagged his tail. “Sarge, guard.” The dog sat straight up then, all business. 

When Aniya reached the deck, the sudden burst of fresh air shocked her. It was the best smell she could remember in a very long time. As she looked around at the high cliffs and let her eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, one of the crew wandered by her. She watched him, and saw him pull a hand back from attempting to grab her ass.  “I wouldn’t,” she murmured, her face friendly but her voice cold. “It’s not worth getting gutted for.” She accented the last words by tapping the pommel of the tiny dagger she’d produced against her bracer, then twirling it across her knuckles. The sailor backed off, both hands up, and muttered something about at least one of the ‘refus’ having some spirit left.  She shook her head and moved away, though she kept an eye on him.

 She squared her shoulders, put on her ‘war face’, and went back below decks to gather her family and their meager belongings.

 The situation in the Kirkwall harbor and docks was worse than they’d anticipated. There were Fereldens everywhere, in groups and alone. Most of the ones who were already here wore various expressions of hopelessness, fear, and despair. A few of the refugees on their ship ran to relatives and embraced, but it didn’t seem that anyone was actually being allowed _into_ the city. There were simply too few ships (and, at least on theirs, too few survivors), to account for all these people. Aveline spotted a guard that seemed vaguely in charge, and they approached him. He fairly well ignored them, until Hawke had asked to speak to the person in charge. Then, he’d rolled his eyes, muttered something about “that’s the same story every time…” and pointed them through a dark passage that opened into the courtyard of this place. Aniya had heard someone call it the Gallows, and the name of this grim place made sense. There were statues of chained slaves everywhere, depicted in various stages of either despair or pleas for…mercy?

  _Nice. Welcome to Kirkwall, now shut up, look down, and prepare to be broken if you aren’t already._

Not _going to happen._ Aniya gritted her teeth. _I forgot – slaving’s still rampant in the Marches, legal or not, and we ‘refus’_ have _to be rich pickings for slavers. Glorious._

They proceeded to the guard captain, who was already arguing with what looked like a newly-formed group of Ferelden toughs trying to force or intimidate their way in. When Aniya managed to get a word in edgewise, and explain that they had noble connections, the captain had been dubious.

“The only Gamlen Amell I know is a weasel who couldn’t rub two coppers together.”

  _I’m so glad Mother can’t hear this._ They’d left her in the entry with Sarge guarding her.

The guard captain reluctantly agreed to look for Gamlen, but that had outraged the toughs; they had attacked the captain and Aniya and her friends indiscriminately. Fending them off bought some goodwill with the captain, who did agree to at least try to send Gamlen to them.

By the second morning, all of them were trying to ignore their growling stomachs with no success. There didn’t seem to be very many food vendors around. Apparently there had been once, but their prices had been outrageous, and an angry mob of refugees had torn them apart. Once in a while, some food was brought to the gates of the gallows, but it was gone so fast that it might as well have not been there. Leandra seemed hardest-hit. When Aniya had diplomatically reported only that the guard was looking for her brother, she’d taken it hard. Even Aveline was obviously looking leaner; the warrior had been in fighting form before they sailed. Now, neither Aniya nor Aveline filled out their armor so that it fit correctly and actually stood a chance of _working_. Aniya paced restlessly, trying to get a chance at what food was being distributed, but with no luck. She couldn’t _quite_ bring herself to steal it from those who did succeed, though; she saw most of it was fought over by desperate parents who were no better off than they were, to feed their children.  Even Sarge was looking lean; there was no meat to be found anywhere, and apparently, the refugees had already disposed of the gulls, rats, and cats that could be found and reached. A few were even desperate enough to eye the mabari hungrily, but he was still threatening enough to give them pause.

 _And it probably rankles any of them to consider eating our national symbol._ Aniya gagged at the thought and forced her thoughts elsewhere. I _have to do_ something _. We were already on short rations on the ship. And if my uncle can’t be found we’re in worse trouble._ She sighed and shook her head as her own stomach growled again. She wasn’t proud of herself, but she began to carefully study the walls and grates around them.

 _There has to be a way out of here that isn’t all that heavily guarded. There just aren’t enough guards around here to keep order_ and _watch everyone at once._ She spotted a likely area in a more isolated corner of the courtyard that might have some gaps she could use as handholds. She’d had a reputation for being part feline in her unit at one point, because she could scramble almost any vertical face if it had even a few small cracks for grip.

_Tonight, then._

 She spent the rest of the day watching guard patrols and wrestling with hurt pride and guilt by turns. Her pride smarted because she was a well-trained Army sapper and assassin reduced to contemplating common street thievery. Then, she’d immediately (and guiltily) remind herself that if she didn’t do it while _she_ was still healthy enough, her family and her protective friend risked starvation.

_I don’t want to lose anyone else in this mess. Poor Carver was bad enough._

* * *

 

 Night had covered the Gallows courtyard and the nearest docks in soft shadows. There was no moon tonight, thank the Maker, and there was enough wind that the torches flickered and threw deceptive shadows all about. 

 Aniya had removed all of her gear that had any brightness to it, so she was clothed only in her dark leathers. She also removed almost everything made of metal. She’d stolen a moth-eaten cloak from a refuse heap and shredded it to wrap the metal fastenings on her armor and the hilts of her blades – _can’t exactly do without those._ She considered lampblack for her skin, as that was one thing that wasn’t in short supply, but decided against it.

 _If I get caught on the other side, that won’t help me talk or fight my way out of it. And, it’s not like the tattoos don’t mark me anyway. Not that I’d change_ that.

She waited patiently until the changing of the guard about an hour after sunset. Most of the refugees were so exhausted and weak from hunger that they weren’t very feisty at that hour, and so the guards had gotten lax.

_Perfect._

She made her way to the dark corner she’d marked earlier, and began her cautious climb. She worked quickly and quietly, and was quickly crouched on top of the wall. She lay flat in a nearby parapet’s shadow to assess what she should do next. She spotted the shadowy wall of a likely building and scrambled up that next. To get her bearings, she sat next to a chimney near the peak of the roof’s gable and watched for either guards or a market. And then, very briefly, she was transfixed by the view.

 _I_ _nteresting. From up here, Kirkwall could actually be considered_ pretty _._ The city was well-lit, especially the area known as Hightown. With a full moon’s light on the surrounding sea, it might even be considered beautiful.

Irritably, _s_ he took herself by the mental ‘scruff’ and shook off the reverie.

 _Save it for some time when you’re not starving and fairly desperate. You can’t get distracted now, and all that pretty light will just make things harder._ _Ah. There we go._

She spotted what looked like a market area opening up just a couple of roofs over from where she was. It didn’t look like much, but if there was anything worth scavenging, she’d find it. She padded quietly over, hopping the roofs as quietly as she could, and then carefully lowered herself onto an awning. From there, it was a quick, easy drop to the ground.

 This area wasn’t exactly prosperous, though it was certainly better off than the ‘refugee pens’ she was used to. She padded down the street, warily listening for guards as she went.

 All of a sudden, she could smell fresh bread. It smelled _wonderful_ , and her stomach growled insistently in reaction.

 _And – Maker’s breath, is that a chicken pasty?_ She stuffed a fist into her gut to quiet it, and carefully followed that heavenly scent. It was coming from a darkened window on the higher level of one of the crammed-together buildings.

_All right, then. This shouldn’t be too bad._

 She glanced around for guards again. Seeing none, she carefully started to scale the wall towards the closest window. Then, she heard approaching footsteps. She dropped reflexively off the wall and ducked behind a rain barrel to see what was going on. The small group of men that had rounded the corner certainly weren’t guards. In fact, they looked like regular street toughs. They wandered up the steps to the house and banged on the door. Someone lit a lamp in the window next to the one where the smell was coming from, and the door soon opened. A hurried, quiet, and emphatic discussion about ‘protection money’ began.

  _It’s now or never._

 Aniya took advantage of the distraction to scramble up the wall. She nearly abandoned caution other than to keep track of the voices in the conversation. The window into which she peeked now was obviously the cooking area for a baker who probably had a stall in the market she’d passed. There were several shelves of baked goods cooling on a large rack, probably for the next day’s market.

  _Oh_ yes!

 She hungrily seized one of them and tore off a bite, and nearly cursed out loud as she burned her fingers on hot filling. _Idiot._ She unwound a small bag from her waist, dropped the offending pasty into it, and then swept the contents of one shelf into it as well. She peered quickly over the rack, added two good-sized loaves to her take, and tied the sack shut. As she dashed back to the window, she spied two apples on the counter; they joined the rest of the goods in her bag. She tied it around her waist, and then paused before easing back out the window. The conversation was still going on, and it was escalating. Other lamps were being lit in other windows, and it was probably only a matter of time before some guard noticed the growing disturbance. Shouts suddenly announced that yes, the city guard had finally noticed and was responding. _Time to go!_

She dropped back into the shadows had hidden her before as two guardsmen ran by. Sounds of a melee ensued. Grinning to herself, Aniya slipped past them into an alley, climbed back up the walls, and retraced her route. A quick dash across the roofs and a little patience later, she’d quietly dropped back into the courtyard. She triumphantly edged over to the makeshift tent they’d constructed from discarded clothing and sail scraps. As she opened the flap, Sarge started to growl, but then broke off and _woofed_ happily. Aveline peered at her and sheathed her half-drawn blade.

“Where _have_ you been? Your mother and sister were worried sick.” She stopped, and sniffed. “Is that… _bread?_ ”

“It is indeed.”

Sarge’s quiet woof woke Bethany, who sat sharply upright when she caught the scent of food. She shook Leandra gently. “Wake up, Mother!” she whispered urgently to Leandra. “I think Aniya may have solved the food problem for now!”

Happily, Aniya passed out the spoils, even ripping open one of the fatter pasties for Sarge, who didn’t bother to wait for it to cool before bolting it down. He panted heavily after he ate; Aniya sympathized with his likely scalded tongue and tore open a second one for him. She let it cool a bit and emptied it out in front of him, and ate the empty shells herself. They ate quickly, hopefully before the scents could attract too much attention. Aniya had stolen quite a bit; they were all stuffed by the time it was gone. The only one whose food sat untouched was Aveline. She continued to peer, or almost glare, at Hawke.

“You can’t tell me you aren’t hungry, Aveline!” Bethany said quietly.

“I want to know how your sister got this bounty.” Aveline was now openly glaring, though her stomach’s growl took some of the force out of it.

“If you won’t like the answer, don’t ask the question,” Aniya answered, returning Aveline’s glare unrepentantly. “I’m sure we’ll be able to eat your share if you don’t want it.”

Aveline started to say something, then her face turned an ugly red and she stormed out of the tent. Aniya sighed and followed.

“Aveline!” She hissed. “What are you about?!”

 “I won’t encourage thievery, Hawke!”

 “Oh, so you _like_ being hungry? You like your armor hanging off you and feeling dizzy, and being afraid we can’t fight off the roving gangs of greasy men looking for an easy mark to share?” Aniya flared, grabbing the warrior’s arm and forcing Aveline to face her. She was shocked to see Aveline’s eyes filled with tears even though her anger was palpable.

 _“NO!”_ Aveline scrubbed her eyes angrily with a balled fist. “It’s _wrong_ , and I can’t _believe_ we’ve been reduced to relying on a _thief_ to survive!” That last was a little too much for Aniya’s frayed nerves, and she lost it.

 “You think I _like_ stealing like a street rat?!” she hissed. “You think I _want_ to be doing this?! _How dare you!_ I’m a soldier, a damn good one, and the whole idea of doing this _galls_ me. But I _do_ it so we _can_ survive! If that’s not good enough for your ideals, Aveline, feel free to _sod off_!” Aniya found she was trembling with rage, and it felt too _good_ to vent that rage on someone. Disgusted with herself, she bit off another acid comment, turned, and stalked back towards the tent.

Aveline hesitated, then jogged quickly after her and grabbed her arm. Still seething with anger, Aniya grabbed that hand, hyper extended Aveline’s thumb until she grunted in pain, used her wrist as a lever, and forced the larger woman to her knees in an adrenaline-fueled submission hold.

“Hawke! Bloody _flames!_ Let me go before I have to hurt you, idiot!” Aveline gasped, and Aniya paled and complied with a look of mute apology. The taller woman gasped in pain and rubbed her wrist and fingers, then turned to face Hawke. Her face was still red, but judging from her body language, it was from shame as much as anything. “I don’t like this any more than you do. I just hope that guard finds your bloody uncle soon.” Aveline hesitated, and then continued, “I’m sorry I insulted you.”

“It’s all right. It’s part of your charm.” Aniya shrugged and then winked wryly. “Let’s go get some food into you before you get any grumpier.”

Aveline hesitantly grinned back. “I hope that fool dog left something!”

“Well, if nothing else, he hates apples.”

They both chuckled quietly as they returned to the tent. There was plenty for Aveline as well; Sarge was contentedly asleep.

 


End file.
